


whenever it rains, whenever it pours

by Ducky (BlueIsh_YellowIsh)



Series: the little things [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Phantom pain, Rain, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), anakin likes rain, chap 3 things go down, lots of fluff and then boom angst ta da, obi-wan makes his debut, rain has a weird effect on a metal arm, references to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueIsh_YellowIsh/pseuds/Ducky
Summary: In the days between the war, in some instances, normalcy is found through simply watching the rain. And for Ahsoka, she discovers the unfortunate effects of a metal arm and rain.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: the little things [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000575
Comments: 34
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Haven’t written anything in awhile! Writers block is mean, especially since I have a mass amount of ideas. Anyway, this is about rain, because I like rain. 
> 
> So Anakin likes rain too I guess. 
> 
> (This fic was deleted and reposted by me because there was a tag glitched and it didn’t appear on the fandom page, sorry if you already have seen this fic and kudosed it)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Her new Master was nowhere to be found. 

She discovered his disappearance episodes to be frequent and increasingly annoying. And she was new on the whole padawan thing; Anakin—in her opinion—was already failing _spectacularly_ at being the Master. 

He was the _Master Escapist—she_ had begun calling him that in her head—because he got out of every situation relatively unscathed. No injuries after some battle, no consequences from the council, and no repercussions from risky tactics on the field. And of course, he was the Master Escapist at escaping the temple, and then of course sneaking back in. 

The thing was no one was seemed to be privy to it...except _her._ (Master Obi-Wan probably knew too, now that she came to think of it.)

Ahsoka would hear more times than she cared to count of footsteps sneaking in their quarters, desperately trying to stay silent. 

It was never a doubt in her mind that it _was_ Anakin sneaking in. She could not only sense his presence, but her enhanced senses made his tiptoeing useless. 

And her enhanced eyesight, sometimes she hated it. The bright red lipstick on his cheek stood out even in the pitch black. 

It was all _very_ suspicious.

She tended to push that out of her mind as an attempt to forget or act oblivious towards Anakin’s affection for a certain senator. She had been his padwan for how _little_ now? And she basically knew everything about him, especially that he was apparently bad at keep secrets. She never said he was the Master of Deception.

Ahsoka also had heard distantly that next morning water running and frantic scrubbing at what she inferred was his face.

Ahsoka _definitely_ forgot that too.

But now it wasn’t near night, or anywhere close to evening. It was a rare time they were able to lay low on leave in the temple. Most of her apprenticeship had been on the field so far and it was strange to say that the quietness of the temple was, _jarring._ Plenty different from what she had experienced in the last few weeks. 

She’s growing restless, itching to move and pull out her lightsaber on a few hundred droids or _anybody._

Normal this would spark a need to spar with her Master. But...she sighed whenever their fragile new bond was closed off as per usual.

She musters up some strength and inspires herself to go find him the old fashioned way.

—

A padawan isn’t normally seen in the hallways alone so she wraps her arms around herself in an effort to hide. Ahsoka nods to a few masters and they nod back before sporting a confused look. She turns away and quickens her steps because, how embarrassing was this? She imagines herself scolding Anakin sometime later because _for force sake_ he deserves it for putting her through his antics.

What makes it worse is that she failed to find him in the training halls or the hanger. Both places she usually sought out and triumphed in finding him.

Ahsoka’s becoming more frustrated and presses a hand to her head. 

Maybe she should comm Padmé? _No,_ no,she couldn’t do that. They haven’t exactly met—at least formally—and she guesses that a question about Anakin will catch her off guard; nonetheless, a padawan contacting her. She decides against comming Padmé even as tempting it would be to potentially catch the Senator and her Master in the act. 

Her little adventure brings her past the Room of a Thousand Fountains; maybe he could be there? She peaks in and nope. Nothing but younglings, a few Masters, fountains of course and skies above darkening with clouds. Perhaps it would rain today.

—

She gives up a few hours later. Even after asking several Masters, and searching until her legs were sore. There was nothing to be found, no evidence, and no relief. _None_ of them had seen Anakin that day. 

Ahsoka makes her way back to her quarters defeated. He had probably left the temple that morning when she was still sleeping, that _had_ to be it.

But as she enters their room she wants to bash her skull in because, “You were here the _whole_ time!”

Anakin jerks back, face full of surprise. “I was here the whole time?” He starts slowly. 

Ahsoka is livid. “I have been looking all day for you! Where have you been?”

Anakin looks even more confused, he scratches his head, “I’ve been...here?”

She breathes out slowly. “I, have been on a wild bantha chase for you _all day._ So forgive me if I am a bit angry Master.” 

She usually would expect a retort of—anger is not the Jedi way—but instead, his face changes into one of remorse. “Sorry Snips, I actually have been looking for you today as well.”

That catches her, “You have?”

He looks down as if embarrassed, “Yeah, I wanted to ask if you would do something with me.”

“Well, _maybe_ you should keep our bond open and not blocked then.”

He grimaces, “Sorry.”

She pushes the anger away and finally notices where Anakin is, he’s right by the windows already watching outside. He pats the floor next to him, beckoning her to sit. 

She sits.

His face is a bit flushed, showing an emotion she had not seen in him until now. “I, uh, _struggle_ with meditation,” he looks down, “I don’t know how you feel about it yet Snips, but I wanted to show you what _I_ like to do sometimes instead.”

As if on cue a soft pitter-patter became known and rain started pouring from the clouds. Anakin smiled and began to watch the droplets with childlike glee. 

Ahsoka leans in closer, indignant, “You wanted me...to watch _the rain_ with you?”

If he senses her annoyance he doesn’t acknowledge it, “Yes I did. It’s nice really, just watch and listen.”

She suddenly feels bad for being so irritable. 

She pauses and listens.

It _was_ nice, he was right. Her thoughts quieted. The soft rain was strangely calming. Her Master’s eyes have already gone spacey and his head leans against the cool window. 

She reaches inward and finds it so much simpler than ever. Tentatively, she brushes the bond with her Master. His presence—the maelstrom of force inside—had been reduced to just a gentle breeze. For the first time since they met, Anakin opened the bond on his side and the cool breeze _rushed_ over her. She inhaled as she bathed in it and whispered back thank you. 

Around her, there are several pillows and blankets prepared

“This is nice.”

“Yes,” he rumbled, voice low, “It is.”

“You seemed to have been preparing this for a while then.”

“All day Snips. I told you I’ve been here.”

She shrugged not bothering to ask why she hadn’t managed to run into him. “How’d you know it was gonna rain? Signs for rain didn’t appear till a few hours ago.”

Anakin tenses. His flesh arm shoots out and clenches around his prosthetic one, tightly. Something _changes_ in his eyes.

She averts her eyes before he glances over and senses her wariness. 

They fall into silence. Ahsoka focuses back on the rain, the drops—like tears—spilling over, and washing _down_ as they trace patterns on the window. They curve ever so slightly like how tears follow the curvature of the face. Carving _deep._ They fall away—gravity overcomes—into puddles, only meant to be stepped on and washed away into drains. There is no life _in_ Coruscant, the plants gone, water no longer vital for growth and renewal. 

Anakin begins again. His voice is softer just barely above a whisper, “Just a _feeling.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s later in the war and things just seem to get worse. Anakin is hurting more then he cares to admit. (Especially after what Obi-Wan did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter in the little rain fic! Things get angsty-er. And I get more sad. 
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> (and whatever these — things are, they’ve taken over my life)

Ahsoka now seeks out Anakin further for meditation. 

It turns out Coruscant often rained, more than she realized. Really, it wasn’t until before—well, _Anakin—that_ she cared even to notice. 

They went through that similar routine, somehow finding each other in the turmoil after a long fight; they are ready to participate in their unique form of meditation. On occasion, Master Kenobi joins as well, looking for a chance to be at peace.

Ahsoka regularly meditated in the familiar position all Jedi sat it. But needless to say, Anakin was _different;_ he always was.

“It doesn’t work for me,” he had once said and resumed fiddling with some trinket in his hands while studying the rain. Other times he would be messing with a wire or two in his arm—not to fix—but as a distraction, maybe, from something else. Well, Ahsoka was always too afraid to ask, so she wasn’t sure. Master Obi-Wan would probably sum it up with, “Anakin, always on the move.”

—

It rained again days later. This one was sudden and brief—like a spark of _anger—_ there one moment and gone in the next. 

That day Anakin didn’t come out to watch. She didn’t look for him. (Or didn’t have it in her to try.)

—

It’s later in the war. The weariness has already sunk in. 

—

The next time it rains, they are not on Coruscant. They are rarely given leave of absence, so she’s used to it at this point. (She knows she shouldn’t be getting used to it. 

“Ahsoka, pay attention will you.”

She remembers where she is: a forest thick with vegetation, branches snaking around, tangled with vines. Anakin is up ahead slightly, hacking away with his lightsaber and paving the way for the walkers. 

She lights her sabers simultaneously and begins the monotonous work. 

Ahsoka imagines what it was like without a lightsaber in this situation, cutting away with no more than a sword or ax. It seemed back-breaking if you asked her. As always, she was happy to rely on her saber. 

The motions were like moving meditations; this type of meditation Anakin—as she knew—was his preferred method. He seemed to have no problem slicing up trees because apparently... it was _calming_ to him. 

For her, the patterns she performed while chopping at the foliage was like the repeating movements of katas she used in her training. “It’s a good practice,” Anakin would probably say, “Improve your skills.”

Ahsoka pauses briefly to study her Master’s handiwork. His single lightsaber has done _wonders_ to the mess of trees and kept them moving smoothly at record speed.

She looks around to see what she has contributed and, really, her progress fails in comparison to Anakin’s work. And she has _two_ lightsabers. 

A roll of thunder—this planet is not supposed to rain—she stops. 

It’s as if time paused for a moment because all the troops slowed their steps down as well. 

Anakin is still moving, lighting fast. His gestures are violent; the trees are dropping like flies—no like _battle droids—_ as if he’s fighting on the field. He’s angry, not like a Jedi should be. Not the Jedi way. He’s breathing too fast, panting, _hyperventilating_ almost. Each swing pulses untamed fury through the force; his movements are no longer graceful—but heavy, dragging down limbs. She feels _cold._

Thunder booms again, a drop of rain falls on the center of her montrals. The few drops turn into pouring before she even realizes it’s raining. 

Many troops around her scatter, already forming up to begin preparations for shelter. 

Ahsoka still is frozen. The rain here seems to be similar to the rain on Coruscant, so nothing should be wrong—or should it? 

It gives off that fresh smell as the air is saturated with humidity. 

Anakin’s back is turned to her, shoulders moving up and down as air heaves its way in and out of his lungs. The rain came suspiciously at the same time as Anakin’s episode as if it reflects how he feels. Furious as the sudden pouring, but inside, sadness weeping out with the clouds above. 

His metal arm goes limp—It’s like a string is cut—like he was a puppet, and his lightsaber slips through fingers.

She opens her mouth again as if to talk and try to understand what’s—.

Ahsoka makes some choked out sound or noise when Anakin pitches face-first into the dirt—mud; it was raining. 

She thinks he might be _joking?_ Skyguy does that a lot...he’s not getting up. 

Her legs begin to trudge forward before her brain catches up. “Rex?” She calls for him over her comm, “I’m gonna need some help.”

“Yes sir,” and Ahsoka was grateful he didn’t ask why.

——-

Anakin woke up quieter than usual. Often he’d wake up with a jerk going ramrod straight in bed but not this time. His eyes half opened, slowly as if his eyelids were stuck together. Then they closed equally as fast, and then he rolls over; his back is facing Ahsoka.

She understands this a _clear_ sign that he doesn’t want to talk. 

Ahsoka and Rex had dragged him across the mud into one of the tents where they found Kix—who was _scandalized._

“I stop paying attention for two minutes, and he’s already passing out?”

She grimaced, and Rex pushed her out of the tent to avoid Kix’s wrath. “Why don’t you rest Commander.”

She accepted an opportunity to rest—after she changed out of her muddy clothing, of course—but hadn’t gotten as much as she would have preferred. With nothing else left to do, she made her way to the medical tent; it was still raining, she was still _tired._

So when Anakin turned his back to her, she curls into herself, managing to still fit on the chair with her legs up. Ahsoka drifts into sleep. 

——

They are in the briefing room—tent actually—when it clicks.

Anakin still hasn’t spoken to her, but he informs General Keno—Obi-Wan of their current position and next move. 

“Thank you Anakin; I presume you will be back on track toward the capitol city tomorrow morning?”

“Yes General Kenobi,” Anakin was looking down. 

She keeps her eyes locked on Obi-Wan; she doesn’t know if it was either him flinching or a normal glitch in the hologram. She glances at Anakin and then back towards Obi-Wan, where they meet eyes.

“Anakin?”

“What?”

“We talked about th—“

“Yes,” he bites out, “But it will _never_ change how I feel.”

Here was when it clicked: Obi-Wan in disguise, Rako Hardeen, the hurt _bleeding_ from Anakin.

“Something else is bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” Anakin grumbles and clutches his prosthetic closer to his body. She feels taller than him at this moment as he shrinks inward.

“You can tell me Anakin.”

Ahsoka can’t see his eyes beneath the mop of hair, “It’s...worse now.”

“What is—oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flick to Anakin’s arm.

Finally, Anakin looks up at Obi-Wan, and something passes through them, a sort of understanding being transferred between them even being lightyears apart. 

Anakin whispers, “It’s raining.”

“It’s raining,” Obi-Wan repeats.

Anakin turns on his heel and is gone before she can say a word. 

With her back still turned from Obi-Wan, he makes one final remark, “Watch over him Ahsoka.”

She nods and walks away, not sparing a glance back. 

——

She is reminded of times when she was young—well _younger—_ she was still sixteen. Ahsoka used to search for Anakin—he often disappeared, remember? But recently, her trend had begun its downward spiral. 

She is a bit rusty and has to ask Rex for input. 

Ahsoka eventually finds him outside, where no one should be; it was still raining. 

He doesn’t acknowledge her sitting on one of the fallen logs next to her, so they sit in silence, if just for a while. 

“Sorry.”

She’s surprised he speaks first. “For what?”

“For a lot of things.”

“Well that doesn’t really narrow it down, does it Master?”

Anakin huffs, a light smile appears just for a second. “Passing out for starters.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t it? You both had to get your hands in the mud to drag me back.”

“What’s a little mud gonna do to me?”

“Nothing, you’re a tough one Snips.”

_Braver than us all._ She hears this in her head, put in by Anakin. It’s touching, and a real smile breaks out over her face; she leans in closer to him.

Her smile must be contagious because Anakin returns it. 

But his eyes still are sad. 

She is about to ask about what he meant with Obi-Wan earlier when thunder rumbles again. 

Anakin stifles a sound of pain, and his body tenses harshly. 

She jolts up, _“Master?”_ and she cannot hide the fear in her voice this time. “What—“

“It’s nothing.” His voice is quivering.

“Master what? That was definitely not nothing!”

Again Anakin yells—unable to hide it this time—his head jerks back, and his flesh arm grabs his right shoulder, squeezing. 

Fear flutters in her chest, she’s already on her feet, she has to get Rex, she has to—“

But he grabs her arm, _“Stop,”_ Anakin pants, “Ahsoka, it’s okay.” 

She knows it’s not okay.

“Just stay here Snips,” he swallows before breathing heavily again, “I—I will explain.”

“You better have a good explanation for this,” she crosses her arms. 

He sucked in the air, almost choking, “It’s—,” he’s coughing and Ahsoka pats his back, “It’s raining.”

Ahsoka looks at him incredulously because “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he speaks between breaths, “That’s it.”

“Than why are you in pain?”

Anakin pauses, “I, don’t, I don’t know Snips. Probably some force mumbo jumbo and the fact that I have a metal arm.”

“And what does this have to do with the rain?” She still hasn’t gotten an answer.

“It’s raining.” 

“Yes I know,” she waves her hands around, “Wow, so mysterious,” but Anakin isn’t up for her jokes because his eyes are focused on the sky and clouds.

“Sometimes the rain causes a heaviness, or, or like a _pressure,”_ he begins to explain, “It’s like something weighing down on my arm, and my nerves connected sorta short out as well with the metal because—,” he sighs, “science stuff? I don’t know how to explain.”

She furrows her eye markings, “So the rain causes sharp pains to your arm!?” And why hadn’t he told her of this before; the countless times they had sat with the rain and Anakin was in pain the entire time? “Wh—, “ 

Anakin sends a wave of calm her way—his way of saying, _It’s okay_ —before she erupts into hysterics. “No, it’s not like that; not a sharp pain at least,” he’s still staring off into the distance, “More like a soreness, but it’s never been _this_ bad before.” He hasn’t blinked yet, and the atmosphere seems to grey.

Ahsoka remembers, “that’s why you said to Master Kenobi, that it’s getting worse!” Anakin nods. “But why is it getting worse?”

The older Jedi curls into himself, if just slightly. His eyes haven’t refocused yet, and they remain fixed on the horizon. He squints, “It’s like,” and then his breath hitches, “it’s like, the force is telling me _it doesn’t belong.”_

“What doesn’t?” She asks. 

“My metal arm.” 

_ The force misses its child being whole; there’s just _ t oo _ much energy because Anakin is a vessel for it; it is pure, raw; _ all-cons uming.

_The flesh arm is gone—it means there’s_ less _room for it. (His force gifted po_ wer.)

“Think my parent’s a bit mad at me.” 

She doesn’t add that maybe he’s mad at it.

“So, anything I can do to help?”

“Not really,” he mumbles.

“Not even painkillers?”

“Not even painkillers,” he repeats, defeated, “I just gotta wait it out.”

“Well, I’ll be right here than Master.”

Her assurance goes farther than she’d ever know. 

The next hour went by with only minor inconveniences. Besides the occasional grunt of pain or a fist clenching, Anakin outed no other signs he was hurting. However, as always, she knew better; she always had. A unique little trait that was always a part of her; an empath almost. Ahsoka sensed his emotions thrumming inside, she knew he was _hurting,_ but he was too embarrassed to admit it. 

Her master was still so enamored by the rain—nothing has changed despite his new pain—she doubted he still knew she was there. 

But he did; she had promised she wouldn’t leave. 

She shivering, the rain is starting to affect Ahsoka. She’s going to have to get them inside before they come down with a cold.She turns to warn Anakin who _—whoops—_ suddenly he’s crashing down on her shoulder. 

“So you’re sleeping now then,” she says to no one, “Time to drag you back again.”

Something was absent though.

Oh.

The rain had stopped; she hadn’t even noticed. 

“Rex?”

“I’m already on my way,” he replies over comm. She laughs to herself; they really are that predictable aren’t they.

Ahsoka stirs him awake to get changed once they are back in the tent. She throws some sleep clothes at his face because “You’re not sleeping in wet clothes. You’ll get _sick!”_

He lets them hit his face, and he’s somewhat lucid enough to stand up slowly and begin the process. She has to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t pass out mid-change. 

Ahsoka rests a hand on his forehead—once he’s laying down snuggled in blankets and the sleeping bag—and then runs her hands over it as if to smooth out the creases. (The war is too stressful for a young adult and a teen.)

The rain here on this planet has value, unlike Coruscant, where rain falls and sits. Here the rain seeps into the ground, feeds the overgrowth, and starts things _new—a_ never-ending cycle of water like their never-ending war. Except the water is the _lifeblood,_ and war is anything but.

She lays down, closes her eyes, and tries to forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn’t help but add a bit implied half force eldritch anakin in there ;)
> 
> comment and kudos! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get somehow worse for everyone in the last days of the war. Everyone's tired, losing their minds and in pain. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are left to watch Anakin spiral into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter here. The fic gets angsty and more sad and I'm sad. Obi-Wan gets more screen time as him and Ahsoka watch Anakin slowly lose it. TW references to blood and vomiting, nothing graphic.
> 
> Shoutout to BigFoot175 for reminding me bout tatooine slave culture.

It takes a bit, but Ahsoka thinks she’s finally placed an emotion to what they all feel.

To think just two years ago, she was a young, bright-eyed, and bushy padawan; it was strange to think back on. She had changed so much. War changes people. She glances at Anakin beside her and decides she wasn’t the only one who had changed. 

Depression.

Resignation.

Forfeit.

Empty.

Any of these could work. It traded between these at times, never settling on one. They go on countless missions; even when they won, she still counted it as a loss. Loss of men, innocence, life, freedom—she sighs and quiets her thoughts. Then she drops her head back in her seat and closes her eyes, lulled by the swirls of hyperspace blue. It shifted to another emotion, the rarest of them all these days.

Calm.

She opens her eyes when she hears a metal hand clunk against the ship’s controls. That metal hand caused them a myriad of problems. She sits up and sees that Anakin had fallen asleep at the wheel again. His head had fallen back, and his mouth was open. She huffs and rolls her eyes when he starts snoring. 

Ahsoka reaches a hand over to the Nava-computer—ah still three parsecs out—they had a few hours to be quiet. 

Then she reaches over to Anakin, maybe to wake him up and tell him to rest in the back—which would be a ton more comfortable—but she stops right before, studying the dark bruises under his eyes. She knew if she woke him up, he’d insist that he wouldn’t go back to rest. Steel his face, pretend _nothing_ was wrong, they’d land, and they would fight again and _again_ like it’s all they’re good for, and then like always, he would fall over from pushing himself too far. Nothing ever changes, she thinks as she recoils her hand and shrinks into her chair. Besides the two of them, _nothing ever changes._ But leaving him to rest for once switches up their never-ending cycle. She wants at least something to be different this time. 

She calls back to Artoo, telling him to wake them up when they need to begin the landing cycle. 

—

He scolds her when he realizes she didn’t wake him up.

When they inevitably lose the battle, it’s a pent-up rage Anakin holds inside that scares Ahsoka. The fury that builds as they bury yet another trooper—she has to see their _faces,_ close their unseeing eyes when she takes off their helmet to place on top of the grave. She has to fold their hands, now so _cold_ and _lifeless,_ when she wants them to rest peacefully. It’s sickening and sad, and Ahsoka only feels _empty._ Anakin is pacing, moving frantically around like there's too much energy to contain. He’s mumbling to himself—nothing Ahsoka can pick out—but it sounds angry. He’s only angry these days. She tries to meet his eyes; they look crazed, the blue and bloodshot contrast each other, bloodshot red, red, so much like _angry._ He’s clenching his right arm, and he’s suddenly spinning on his heel, back to their ship. Ahsoka follows unsteadily behind; he’s projecting loudly, her head pounds. He doesn’t seem to notice, nor does he see the rain seemingly materializing in the sky, following in the wake of his midst. 

—

When they are back on Coruscant, she can hear the shouts over walls, from Anakin mostly, Obi-Wan might be yelling too, but she can’t tell. That and the thundering from outside, raining again. She covers her montrals with various blankets hoping to block out the noise. It’s no use.

“Tell me again _why_ we were _even_ sent there in the first place?! They knew it was a lost planet, and we were still sent! Why? _Why?”_ He screams, “To _die_ Obi-Wan, they sent us there to _die!”_ His voice is unsteady, hoarse and shaky, and everything in between, rising higher and higher. He’s going to hurt himself, she thinks. “I lost so many! Obi-Wan, tell me why, _tell_ me—,” his voice cuts off abruptly and dissolves into coughs. She sits up in her bed, suddenly aware of the sinking feeling in her gut. 

“Anakin—,” it’s the first thing she hears Obi-Wan say.

She bursts into the room to see Obi-Wan’s arms being the only things holding Anakin up as his knees give out. She rushes over and grabs an arm, Obi-Wan jerks his head over to the couch, where they drag a protesting Anakin, still yelling albeit slurred and softer. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s passing out. 

“He’s tired,” is all she can say when he’s finally asleep on the couch. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stay watching over him. She casts a look at Obi-Wan, who has his hand on his beard, looking very worried. They are _all_ tired, goes unsaid, she knows because Obi-Wan’s bags match Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s were the same last time she looked into a mirror. Obi-Wan guides her to bed, and Ahsoka begs him to stay with her. The storms outside blow with a ferocity she hasn’t seen before. It’s not that she’s afraid of the storm—maybe she is—but she’s fearful for Anakin. 

—

He’s the last to wake the next morning. 

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are already in the kitchen, making small talk, drinking tea. 

He stumbles in, looking no better than he had been the night before. Then he slumps into a chair where Obi-Wan passes over a cup of tea prepared in advance. Anakin blinks blearily into it and sniffs loudly. 

He mumbles out a rare apology, it’s low, and his throat sounds raw. He had yelled a _lot_ last night. Obi-Wan sighs and pushes over the sugar as well. Anakin blinks, and he grabs the entire container; he dumps about half of it in and begins stirring it absentmindedly with a spoon. It’s his left hand, Ahsoka notices, and it’s _shaking._ Obi-Wan smiles at him and puts a hand gently on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin wipes at his face with his other hand—catching tears maybe—and smiles back at Obi-Wan; it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Ahsoka studies her tea, stirs it a bit more before taking a sip.

They would be okay, for now.

—

Before long, they are on their next assignment. Ahsoka wasn’t quite sure any of them had caught up on their sleep. Obi-Wan insists he comes with them and assigns himself and the two-twelfth to the mission behind Anakin’s back. He’s pleasantly surprised when he gets a clap on the shoulder by Obi-Wan, who says, “Mind if I join you?” Ahsoka watches Anakin scowl and demands why they are here. Secretly Ahsoka knows that Anakin is relieved that they are here because she knows she is.

As if Obi-Wan coming would change anything—she was naive—the battle still went south like always. She had lost track of Anakin in what felt like hours ago, but she could sense their bond, unending pulses, reassurance. Obi-Wan was by her side, watching her flank as she sliced battle droid over battle droid. They just seem to keep coming. 

Panic floods through her, and anxiety rushes in her blood, making her dizzy. It’s from _Anakin,_ though why he is feeling this, she doesn’t know why. Obi-Wan senses it too because his head perks up and his eyes dart around the field, searching. It’s Anakin who finds them, yelling at them while directing shots away. She can’t make out what he’s saying. She’s facing his direction, and the ground in front of her begins to glow _red;_ her back-side feels hot. Anakin screams again, racing towards them faster than Ahsoka thought was humanly possible. She takes a cautious step around, _something_ prickling at her back. Obi-Wan reaches an arm out toward her, his face awash in absolute fear. Her eyes sting from the glow of the oncoming blast—why didn’t the force warn her—it was too late. 

Anakin is beside her from nowhere and grounds out a pained sound as he pushes outward with his hands. _“No!”_ He howls, and the force responds to his plea; it pours out of his hands as he struggles to push the blast away. It’s like a field of protection that surrounds herself and Obi-Wan. She watches the bombs rain down, a multitude of reds, oranges, golds, those same colors—once maybe beautiful—that she had been destined to die by. The force coming from Anakin is almost _blue;_ she realizes he’s still screaming, the power coming from him—no being _pulled_ out—sucking away, putting his life force into defending them from the onslaught. His hands are shaking under all the pressure along with his entire body, but he still pushes more, more, _more,_ welcoming the force to take away _his_ life for his friends; he _wants_ this. 

Ahsoka sees Obi-Wan run towards Anakin, trying to pry him away; he was—Anakin was _killing_ himself to save them. The force still swells around her, untamed, their bond is on fire, she falls to her knees, Obi-Wan does as well. She can’t get to her feet because _something_ is pushing her down. Ahsoka feels that Anakin is weakening and is fading. He stumbles once; he’s failing but still pushes; the blasts are slowing down. Suddenly they stop, and something falls away, like a pressure drop. The force is empty; she can’t feel it—she can’t feel _Anakin._ He’s somehow still standing, but his hands had dropped to his sides. She scrambles to her feet; Obi-Wan is already there. Anakin staggers once and then simply folds over. He’s sweating, and his face is grey, his nose—she feels tears coming, is bleeding from both nostrils. Obi-Wan yells for a medic and lies Anakin on the ground, putting his hands on Anakin’s chest and pounds. He’s doing CPR, she realizes, but she can’t bring herself to help. She’s numb, frozen. Then Obi-Wan’s shaking hand runs through Anakin’s sweaty hair and is placed on Anakin’s forehead. She feels the force again; it’s coming from Obi-Wan—he’s trying to force heal Anakin. Her bond with him is muted. She watches Kix, and the other medics rush over in slow motion as Anakin’s body was put on a stretcher and carried away. 

She doesn’t move.

She only _cries._

The sky does as well.

—

He’s stabilized on the ship—they lost him only three times, Kix says. _Only_ three? He says it so casually she speeds off to the refresher and promptly vomits. Another part inside her reminds her that Kix was a professional. He was perturbed but did a great job not showing it. Ahsoka wipes her mouth and leans over the sink wishing she could be as collected as Kix. 

They can’t do anything now, so she and Obi-Wan are in charge of cleaning up. More _bodies_ to bury. Nothing new. 

She looks up into the grey sky, and a water drop falls into her eye. She blinks it away and pulls her cloak over her head. Obi-Wan appears behind her and guides her to a tent. She takes one last look at the battlefield behind her as the rain washes away the remnants of blood into the dirt—a clean pallet for more bloodshed, maybe on another day in the future. 

Inside the tent, the two Jedi sit in comfortable silence. Her hood hides the tears she had cried, and the rain did wonders to cover it as well. They were both soaking wet, but neither had sparked the desire to change into something warmer. Not until Anakin’s awake, she thinks, when he’s awake, she’ll be _warm_ again. Another rush of pain passes through her heart, remembering that Anakin had almost died—he _did_ die actually, a few times, she thinks hysterically. And even now, he teeters on the edge of life and death. She shivers.

Thunder was rumbling ever so often. It was a kind of filling sound really, as it kept them from utter silence. But then an unexpected bolt of lightning startles her out of her thoughts. Then there's another and another crash; the rain was pounding against their tent. 

“These storms _never_ have lightning.”

Obi-Wan looks up at her, “Hm, Ahsoka? What did you say?”

“Oh,” she didn’t realize she had said that out loud, “I just said that these storms never have lighting.”

_“These_ storms?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “It always rains when…” She scrunches her eye-markings and sits forward, “It always rains like this when something happens to Anakin.”

It’s like an epiphany, and suddenly so many things make sense. 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan tilts his head.

“I don’t know. It’s just, it’s,” Ahsoka sighs, “I just think that whenever Anakin is overly emotional, it rains, like,” she peeks out the tent’s window, and the world bends around her, “like _he’s_ the one who caused it.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, “Probably just a coincidence.”

“No,” she hears herself saying, _“These,_ they feel different. Can’t you feel it, Master?”

Obi-Wan stands to look out the window, “Yes,” he begins, “I can.”

Ahsoka rises, ignoring the way her knees wobble and stands by Obi-Wan, “Didn’t you say once that the rain affects his metal arm. You told me once after he collapsed in the forest one day, and I watched him deal through it, in pain,” Ahsoka remembers it vividly, but it feels so long ago that it happened.

“Yes, I remember.” He places his hand over his beard, opens and then closes his mouth, looking down in uncertainty. 

“What?”

He clenches his jaw and looks somewhere to the side before looking back at her. She wasn’t so short anymore, and he can almost meet her eyes at his eye-level. “Just what you’re saying reminds me of something that Anakin had said years ago.”

“What was it,” she whispers. She doesn’t think she’s allowed to know.

Obi-Wan’s eyes got misty, “When he was still a young boy, he told me stories of Tatooine, where Anakin had a special name that he was called in the—,” his breath hitches, “the slave language. _He_ who brings the _rain.”_

“Well, that makes sense,” she gestures around her. It still didn’t explain the lightning, though.

“I suppose it does.”

Ahsoka presses herself against her Grandmaster in a sort of hug, a burdened, tired one, but undoubtedly a hug. 

—

When he wakes up, the bond between them lights up again. She hugs him tightly, drinking in his warmth. 

It takes a moment for his arms to reach around her frame. But she’s patient.

More thunder rolls, with lightning this time. Anakin flinches and holds onto her tighter.

—

He never really recovered from it, she thinks, many years later.

—

He jokes around with her a little more these days. It rains less, and he isn’t so shaky, so angry anymore. Not after he got half his life force sucked out of him. Obi-Wan says that Anakin is no longer allowed to do that ever again. Anakin smirks, saying _no promises._ Ahsoka and Obi-wan cross their arms, not amused. She had seen him on his deathbed, and it wasn't a joke. Anakin laughs and says to stop being so sensitive. “I _always_ make it out alive, don’t I? You can rely on me. You _know_ I won’t let you down.”

She believes it wholeheartedly, but something tells her _not_ to.

—

One day she doesn’t know what starts it, but it’s raining again, and that’s all she needs to know to find Anakin. It’s their last day at the temple before they are sent on another mission. This time to Cato Neimoidia, it should be _easy,_ she thinks. Like she always says, _nothing ever changes,_ another battle, another loss or win, and they move on.

She’s walking back to their quarters from the training rooms when a bolt of lightning arcs it’s way across the sky. She sees in through the transparisteel windows in the temple. It’s loud and bright.

Ahsoka quickens her step.

Their room is dark, so she would typically assume Anakin was already sleeping, preparing for tomorrow. But she knew him better than that.

He’s crouched, knees up in the corner with a blanket draped over his shoulders and head. The same corner where they first watched the rain together. 

Strangely no rain follows the thunder and lightning this evening. 

The next strike leaves Anakin reeling, and he grabs his arm. 

“Master?” she sits down across from him.

“Hi Snips,” he whispers.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, just,” more lightning, he flinches, _“peachy.”_ She doesn’t believe him. Anakin must realize this, “No, it's not alright, I’m just. I’m kind of afraid—,” he growls and turns his head.

“Afraid of lighting?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I know it’s childish and irrational—,”

“No, _no,_ it isn’t, Master. You’re allowed to be afraid.”

He doesn’t seem too sad tonight; she sees this as she watches him longer. Just afraid and always _too_ stubborn to tell her. 

Maybe the rain reflected his sadness, the thunder, his anger, and the lighting represented his—,”

_“Fear_ is very unbecoming for a Master, huh Snips.”

She remembers when she was still a youngling and Anakin was a hero, _her_ hero, the hero with _no_ fear. It seems like he was the most afraid. “No, you always taught me emotions were natural.”

“Yeah, but not—,”

_For me,_ she finishes in her head. Because it was Anakin Skywalker, her Master that was the most unnatural out of them all, the same one who held back explosions, ripped apart droids, walked through the fire and flood, saved lives, became a living _legend,_ all the while still _feeling_ the most. At the same time, she thinks he was also the most normal of them all.

“I just can’t help but fear for tomorrow. I know we’ll be fine, but—,”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Master, and it’s just a routine mission, nothing out of the ordinary. And I’ll be right by your side the entire time. I’ll _always_ be with you.”

Anakin drops his head back to the wall behind him, “I know.”

—

“I know.”

She’s walking away.

How fast things _changed._ They never change that fast.

It’s raining the first night she’s on her own on Coruscant. 

After that night, she never feels the unique feeling of Anakin’s rain again.

When she stands over the graves of so many troopers—the ones she buried—it only rains ashes.

—

Mechanical breathing. His arm—his entire body is eternally sore.

Vader does not remember how to make it rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh
> 
> so uh, :(((
> 
> comment, kudos, lemme know what you think <3\. thank you all for following the story:)

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahhhh sudden angst!!!!! looking forward to further explore the effects in future chapters!
> 
> Kudos and Comment! see ya soon!


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